


Long Way Home

by greygerbil



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Day 7, M/M, Victor prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 13:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13591221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: Victor gets stuck at an airport and documents his time there for Yuuri in lieu of the nice evening they were planning to spend together.





	Long Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Victuuri Week 2018. The Prompt is "Journeys".

_I won’t make it before midnight. The flight was delayed for two hours._

Disappointment settled over Yuuri’s mood like a wet blanket as he read Victor’s message. He did the math in his head. The flight from Novosibirsk took about four and a half hours, so Victor would probably arrive on their doorstep at one in the morning. This meant they’d sleep in way too late on their only shared rest day this week and would only have the afternoon to actually spend together. They’d planned to go out so Victor could show him a little of St. Petersburg, too, since between practice, sponsorship engagements, and occasionally doing their laundry and taking the dog out and keeping the apartment liveable, there wasn’t much time for real dates.

Yuuri attempted to swallow his frustration. It wasn’t that big a deal. He imagined playing on his phone with the sound off while Victor was sleeping in against his shoulder. That would be nice, too. At least he’d have Victor back.

Yuuri looked at the screen again and found that Victor had attached a photo to his message. The main part of the picture was the big black board showing the departing flights in white blocky letters and numbers, but Victor was in the corner, slightly out of focus and frowning at the camera. Yuuri had to smile.

_That’s too bad. I made some stir fry vegetables for dinner, though, you can reheat them whenever._

Because it felt like all he’d done today was look forward to Victor’s arrival while going through the motions at the rink and in the gym, Yuuri attempted to be at least a little productive and sat down on the ground to stretch his left leg, which had felt stiff during practice. However, he placed his phone on the carpet, too, and used the hand not wrapped around his toes to scroll up through the conversation in the messenger to where Victor had sent him some selfies he had taken this morning.

After a stint at a rink in Novosibirsk were Victor had shown up as Yakov’s envoy and trained with the skaters for two weeks for an ice show that Yuuri had watched on TV yesterday, he’d done a menswear photo shoot for the fashion label Oodji this morning. They had put him in a variety of form-fitting white suits and Yuuri wondered if this breached false advertising because no one without Victor’s striking crystal blue eyes and silky silver hair would be able to pull them off that well; but maybe he was biased because he thought Victor looked better than most people in just about anything.

There was one photo in particular that his fingertip lingered over. Victor had been handed a bouquet of glass roses on thin steel stems to accompany an old-fashioned double breasted jacket and a thin grey shawl. It looked a lot like a winter wedding picture and Yuuri was unduly fascinated with it.

He put his phone away after staring at the photos for way too long and got up to wash the dishes. After he had dried his hands, he noticed that he had more messages from Victor. The first one was another shot of the departure board.

_Now my flight is just gone?_

Yuuri couldn’t find it on the photo, either. He swiped to the next picture, which was Victor standing in front of the Rossiya Airlines information terminal behind a disorderly crowd of mostly unenthused, irate and tired people.

_I don’t think anyone knows what’s going on._

_Then at least you haven’t missed it_ Yuuri typed.

It probably meant waiting even longer for Victor, though, which shouldn’t make a difference after a fortnight but did because Yuuri was an idiot in love. Sighing, he put the phone away to spoon fresh food into Makkachin’s bowl. He wasn’t the only one who wanted Victor to come back, he considered, petting the dog’s head. Makkachin wouldn’t even sleep in his basket anymore, he always crawled into Yuuri’s bed instead. Then, in the middle of the night, he’d kick Yuuri awake and start searching the house for his missing owner, eventually whimpering at the front door until Yuuri took him back to bed.

After leaving Makkachin to his dinner, Yuuri sat in front of his laptop to stream Japanese news, brushed his teeth and pulled on his old Hasetsu Ice Castle t-shirt and a pair of soft black sweatpants. He was stretched out on the bed and deep into a Mario level on his handheld Switch by the time the next message came.

_They say their pilot called in sick. We’re waiting now. I’m going to explore a bit._

_Don’t miss your flight._

Despite the fact that he wasn’t stuck on Tolmachevo Airport and facing the prospect of a night in an uncomfortable waiting room plastic hair, Yuuri found unease curling in the pit of his stomach. He’d never liked being in travel limbo and it was kind of worse not being able to do anything about it because he wasn’t there. Victor wasn’t stupid, but he could be a bit forgetful, and Yuuri didn’t want him to get stuck because he missed an announcement.

_I wouldn’t. Then I’d have to wait even longer to see you!_

A heart emoji popped up on Yuuri’s screen. It was stupidly sappy and he couldn’t help but smile.

The next message came soon and Yuuri put away his game in favour of watching the messenger and browsing through his friends Instagram posts as he waited for news from Victor to pop up. At first Victor had sent a surreptitious picture of some ward-robe-sized, scowling men in dark suits and hats. They sat crowded into the corner booth of a coffee shop looking slightly out of place over colourful paper cups. Victor’s subtitle was _I think Bratva has to wait, too._ The next picture was of a small slice of chocolate cake on a plate. _Don’t tell Yakov._

_You don’t seem to ever gain weight, so I don’t think it makes a difference if I do._

Not that Yuuri was jealous – only every time he saw Victor eat anything.

While he looked at Phichit’s perfectly curated gallery of photos from Lumphini Park in Bangkok, another message alert popped up. The latest photo showed Victor’s long fingers wrapped around a Japanese tourist guide for St. Petersburg.

_The bookstore has a tiny Japanese section for some reason, there’s five books. I’m buying this to practice so I can tell you all about St. Petersburg in Japanese._

A walk through the city alongside Victor patching his ever-growing arsenal of chunks of Japanese into sentences sounded a hundred times better than sitting here watching him wander through an airport alone.

_I look forward to it._

There was a long pause that made Yuuri wonder if the flight had been called. He put the phone aside and only picked it up again when its beeping noise woke him from a shallow nap. Drowsily, he pawed for it and swiped away the lock screen. On the new picture, Victor was surrounded by a group of young men and women, all smiling into the camera as they pushed in close around him.

_Some skating fans found me. I got this._

The second photo was of a red rose in cheap plastic packaging. Yuuri suspected it had been bought at the airport, since they couldn’t have guessed they’d run into Victor that day.

 _Should I be jealous?_ Yuuri joked. He was a little bit, but only because they got to spend time with Victor when he didn’t.

_Don’t be jealous when I’m not there. I won’t even reap the benefits. You can get jealous when I’m home._

Even though he was just reading the teasing, Yuuri could feel his ears grow red. Obviously, Victor was referring to the time a Russian choreographer who used to work with Yakov had visited St. Petersburg and spent most of his time at the rink patting Victor on every available body part while they laughed and chatted about the past. Yuuri had dragged Victor to bed that night and probably said one or two things he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t had a glass of Vodka celebrating Mila’s birthday earlier. He was still embarrassed about the caveman level of possessiveness he’d displayed and Victor loved to remind him of it.

 _We’re finally going! I can’t take the rose, so I put it here. Maybe someone who’s luckier than me and has their partner with them will find it._ Victor had placed the flower on top of the back of a bench in front of a duty-free shop. Another message popped up: _Being stuck here would have been be a lot more fun if you were with me._

Strange as it seemed to him, Yuuri agreed whole-heartedly. It wouldn’t exactly have been like strolling through St. Petersburg and having dinner at a fancy restaurant as they’d originally planned for tomorrow, but all that was really window dressing when Victor was with him. He’d rather have been at the airport with him than alone at home tonight.

Yuuri shook his head. They’d been separated for two weeks. He was an adult man, he shouldn’t miss someone that much after fourteen days and yet he caught himself looking at the empty spot in his bed as if Victor had been gone for months. He felt ridiculous, like _he_ was going to be searching the empty apartment for Victor like poor Makkachin soon enough, but he couldn’t stop it, either.

_Have a safe flight._

-

Yuuri woke to the sound of the front door opening and was instantly surprised that he was alone in the bedroom even though the clock on his phone showed it was eight in the morning. He’d expected that Victor might sneak in without waking him up in the night, but he would’ve still come to bed. Anxiety would have set in if not for the fact that he caught he had an unread message.

_The plane had a malfunction. We’ve landed at Koltsovo in Yekaterinburg to change planes, but we’ve just been standing on the edge of the runway for an hour now. It’s really cold._

Still in his sleeping clothes, Yuuri stumbled out into the living room while pulling on his glasses and found himself looking at Victor kneeling before Makkachin. The difference between this Victor and the one from the photoshoot he’d sent just yesterday at noon was staggering. His hair was in complete disarray and still had snowflakes stuck in it and his pullover and jeans were rumpled, hanging awkwardly off of him. When he turned his face up to look at Yuuri, he saw how deep the dark circles under his eyes were. Victor gave Makkachin a last pat before he dragged himself over to Yuuri and all but fell into his arms. He smelled like stale coffee and winter and as Yuuri drew back again to look at him, he found him heart-breakingly handsome.

“I never want to fly again,” Victor mumbled.

Yuuri carded his fingers through Victor’s hair. “Welcome back.”

Victor seemed to have lost all of the tension in his body, so Yuuri directed them to fall onto the couch, where Victor leaned against him like a puppet still, only moving his hand to clasp Yuuri’s. His skin was cold as stone, but Yuuri watched him thread their fingers together and felt a lot warmer all of the sudden.

“I missed you,” Yuuri blurted out even though he’d promised himself he wouldn’t.

Looking up, Victor smiled.

“Ah, Yuuri, I missed you, too!”

It never seemed like Victor was ashamed to stay these things, Yuuri marvelled. Maybe he was simply aware of how painfully in love Yuuri was.

“I’m sorry, I know we wanted to go out today, but I really need to sleep a few hours. I didn’t get any rest on the plane. Plane _s_ ,” Victor corrected himself, bitterly.

“That’s fine.”

Seeing Victor so exhausted, Yuuri only wanted him to feel better. He kissed the top of Victor’s head and got up, then pulled him off the sofa by his wrists when Victor plaintively extended his hands to him in a quiet plea for help.

“Hey, Yuuri… _zutto issho-ni itai_ ,“ Victor said as Yuuri opened the bedroom door.

‘I want us to be together forever.’ Yuuri found himself briefly speechless because of the way Victor’s Russian accent wrapped around the sweet Japanese words.

“Where did you learn that?” he asked, finally smiling.

“There was a joke page about flirting with Russians in the back of my Japanese travel guide. It translated some sentences from Japanese,” Victor said with a chuckle as he kicked off his trousers and draped them over the back of a chair before stripping down to his briefs and crawling under the blanket. Yuuri laid down next to him just as Makkachin scrambled up from the other side. Slotting against Victor, Yuuri grabbed his phone off the nightstand.

“You sent me so many photos... we have to document the end of your journey, too,” he said.

Victor, dishevelled and pale, smiled for Yuuri’s camera one more time, Yuuri to one side of him and Makkachin to the other. As Victor dozed off holding on to Yuuri’s arm, Yuuri tucked the picture away into a folder on the front page of his phone screen, next to a photo of his parents and sister, with Minako, Yuuko and Takeshi with their daughters before the ice rink at home, and another of Hasetsu from the top of the ninja castle. It was the things he looked forward to when they retired from skating: his home, his friends, his family, and more time with Victor, who was all three of these things to Yuuri.


End file.
